


Thank You

by Adventures_in_Writing



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, implied grimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarge takes a moment to appreciate the things Grif has done for Red Team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one a little while ago. A prompt received on Tumblr: Sarge and Grif getting a moment to talk after they're all back together on Chorus. Or anything involving Sarge fixing/building stuff.

* * *

Despite everything he said about his Red subordinates, Sarge did find himself genuinely worried about them sometimes. Whilst he would never  _ever_ admit it, he was worried about Simmons and even Grif when they were taken captive by those rebel scumbags months ago. He was relived to find them uninjured and bickering like always. Sometimes he still wondered how things might be now if they had never been seen again.  
  
He didn’t like thoughts like that.  
  
Things were getting serious on Chorus; Sarge wasn’t completely stupid. The worst was potentially yet to come and if Wash and Carolina getting beaten almost to a pulp wasn’t an indication, then Tucker taking a knife to the stomach certainly was. For some reason, Sarge felt the need to try and make amends with a certain orange soldier on his team before things turned crazier.  
  
“Grif!” There was no reply. "Grif, you lazy dirtbag! Front and centre on the double!”  
  
He heard the tell-tale heavy sigh that Grif always made when he needed to do anything.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“What is it, what?” He prompted.  
  
“What is it,  _Sir_?”  
  
Sarge chuckled. He was glad he’d asked that Doyle fellow to promote him to Colonel.  
  
"I’d like to have a word with you, Private. I mean Captain.”  
  
“If this has anything to do with the food stores being raided, it wasn’t me. You can’t prove anything.”  
  
“What? No.”  
  
“Oh good. What is it then?”  
  
Sarge grumbled to himself for a bit. Grif had no idea what to expect. Sarge usually just said stuff to him without and kind of pretext. It wasn’t often that he was pulled aside like this. To be honest, it made him feel a little queasy. Had something happened to Simmons during his most recent cybernetic upgrade?  
  
“Is Simmons, okay?” He asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.  
  
“What? Oh. Yeah, his surgery went fine. His new upgrades look pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. Hehehe, now he has X-ray vision!” Sarge coughed, “but let’s not get carried away. That isn’t what I want to talk to you about.”  
  
“Oh good,” Grif sighed.  
  
“Not sure why you care so much though,” Sarge mused. Although it seemed like he didn’t pay too much attention to his men, he did keep an eye on them. He knew exactly why Grif cared, it was just amusing to see him try and hide it.  
  
“Uh, well, we’re already outnumbered by the Blues. It would suck if we were another man down.”  
  
Sarge grumbled. Curse those pesky Blues and their ever-growing team! But that was a problem for later.  
  
“Grif. I know we don’t really see eye-to-eye and know you’re not real fond of me. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not too fond of you either.”  
  
“Is that what you wanted to say, Sarge? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve known that since I was first assigned to this team.”  
  
“Shut up, dirtbag. I’m gettin’ to it.” Sarge took a breath, “I wanna say…”  
  
Grif waited for the next part of the sentence. “Say…?”  
  
Sarge grumbled.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sir, I missed that.”  
  
“I said, thank you, all right?”  
  
Grif stared. What the hell did he just hear? “I’m sorry, what?”  
  
“I  _said_. Thank. You. For savin’ me that time I got shot in the head. For helpin’ me fight off the Meta to save Simmons and Doc; for helpin’ me take out the Meta; for comin’ to save Lopez, Donut and me; for moving your fat ass when it counted and the team needed you.”  
  
Grif was speechless. How many years had it been since some of that stuff happened? Why was Sarge bringing it up now? Grif had stopped caring about those things ages ago.  
  
“Like I said, I know we have our differences and I know you’d probably rather not have to listen to me, not that you ever really do but, for a dirty orange lazy-ass, you’re not so bad.”  
  
“Uh… You’re welcome?” It was the best he could manage. The two stood there awkwardly for a few minutes before it became unbearable.  
Grif turned to leave but he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Sir?”  
  
Sarge grunted. He was feeling rather embarrassed about his speech just now and wanted to go and find something to do to take his mind off of things.  
  
“There isn’t another Sarge around that I’d rather not take orders from.”  
When all was said and done, even though he could be a right royal pain in the arse and a moron, Sarge wasn’t too bad.  
  
“Good. I wouldn’t wish your lazy-ass on anyone else. Now, get goin’. Simmons said something about wanting to see you because he’s sick of Donut stroking his hand while he recovers.”  
  
Grif sighed, sounding bored. “Guess I’d better go and see what he wants.”  
  
Simmons hadn’t said anything like that at all, but Sarge had worked with them long enough to know better. Who said that Sarge didn’t care at least a little about his least favourite orange soldier?

 


End file.
